


Covet

by may_tricks



Category: Desperate Housewives
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3453242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/may_tricks/pseuds/may_tricks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rex and Lynette are the point where jealousy and envy meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covet

**Author's Note:**

> Ranges from pre-series to early season 2. As well, I own nothing related to Desperate Housewives.

Sometimes Wisteria Lane feels like a junior high school dance: all the boys lined up on one side and all the girls on the other. The husbands talk shop and cars and sports. The wives talk gossip and homemaking and child-rearing. There is little intermingling of the sexes, all those interactions reserved for behind closed doors.

Lynette thinks this is the reason she doesn't hang around Rex and why Bree doesn't spend very much time Tom at all.

In fact, she can count all the conversations she’s had with Rex (without Bree physically present) on one hand. Of those conversations, Bree has been present in spirit for half of them. Their words always come back to her because there needs a bridge to connect two opposing forces.

“Work’s been busy?”

It’s not really a question, although she’s phrased it as one.

Lynette knows that Rex has been spending extra hours at the hospital, she knows because Bree has told her. Maybe only passingly, maybe not even verbally. She knows because she already knows so much about Bree. Rex knows that.

He changes the topics, asks her how it feels to be a mother for the third time now.

For how much time Lynette spends in the Van de Kamp residence she can’t remember being alone with Rex for a minute. Bree is in the bathroom when Rex comes in the kitchen. He sees Lynette sitting at his table but doesn't deviate from his path to the refrigerator. He drinks orange juice directly from the carton and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Bree really loves the bracelet you got her.”

It was her birthday yesterday. They had dinner at a restaurant where he gave her the gift and she had smiled at him brightly. It scared him how her genuine smile looked so close to her plastic Betty Homemaker smile. He tends to remember her differently, recalling a time when she wasn't a 1950's _Leave it to Beaver_ throwback, but he fears that may just be wishful thinking. He’s not sure if he’s angrier at Bree for changing or at himself for not realizing that this may have been who she was all along. He’s scared that he’s actually the one changing.

Bree returns before he can respond, bringing along the scent of peaches and mangoes with her.

“Have you been baking? You smell like fruit.”

Every morning he watches her apply shimmery shea butter that smells like vanilla. Every day when she kisses him goodbye on his way to work he catches a whiff.

“It’s the body lotion Lynette bought for my birthday. Isn't it lovely?”

He doesn't need to look at Lynette to know she’s looking at him. Antagonistic, he leans in to kiss his wife’s lips brazenly, feels the stickiness of her lip-gloss, and pulls back with a pop. He looks at Lynette now and smiles at her impassive face.

Rex isn't sure if Lynette has ever really forgiven him for that kiss but she’s not hostile, which is good enough. She invites him and Bree for dinner with her and Tom at their house. They sit in pairs: Tom and Lynette, Rex and Bree. While the women chat, he makes conversation with Tom.

Lynette stands up to serve everyone seconds, orbiting around the kitchen table. She leans in front of Bree to deposit some more potatoes on her plate, a wisp of blonde hair escaping her up-do. His wife—textbook perfectionist—tucks it back behind Lynette’s ear. She smiles approvingly at the correction, completely misses the new-found flush of scarlet on Lynette’s collar, and subconsciously licks her own lips.

Bree never notices when she does it but Rex does.

He notices many things, in fact.

He notices how the Scavo’s house looks like an actual home and his looks like the centerfold of _Good Housekeeping._ He notices how Bree sits with her knees together and her spine straight (the model student of etiquette class) while Lynette is casually lined up with Tom. They look familiar, comfortable. He might even be envious but then he also notices how Lynette’s gaze trails to Bree, the spark in her eye when Bree laughs at something she’s said. He thinks he might sympathize with her if he wasn’t busy trying to keep his jealousy under wraps.

In the Scavo bathroom, Rex washes his hands then splashes some cool water on his face. The mirror doubles as a medicine cabinet and he’s curious so he investigates. Nothing out of the ordinary: toothpaste, dental floss, and aspirin. He finds a tube of lipstick labelled _Carnal_.

Fitting.

The evening winds down, conversation tapering off. Tom and Lynette see them to the front door and make their goodbyes. Bree kisses Lynette’s cheek, her eyes shuttering closed for a moment. By accident she just catches the corner of Lynette’s mouth. She draws back a second later then sidesteps out of the way to give Rex a clear path to Lynette. He doesn't close his eyes and doesn't let his lips touch Lynette’s skin. Tom ushers him and Bree out.

As they walk home, Bree’s hand brushes against his. She links her arm through his, falling into step. They make it home safe then go about their nightly routines for getting ready to turn in. In bed, Bree lies next to him, her lips pecking his goodnight.

Less than a half hour later she's completely asleep. Her face relaxed and beautiful, perfect in a porcelain doll kind of way. Rex watches Bree’s lips move. It’s only a tremble at first but then she murmurs, " _Lynette._ "

It’s not the first time it’s happened and he can’t keep wishing it’ll be the last.

He wants to turn away, roll on to his other side so he doesn't have to look at his wife wanting someone else, but he can’t. Instead, he thinks about the paperwork he had a lawyer draw up. Divorce would kill Bree, Rex is sure. It’s not that he wants to hurt her but he can’t do this anymore. BDSM with Maisy Gibbons—the Madonna and the whore—might be considered role play by most but he knows that the acting takes place in his laundry detergent life with Bree. There's no safe word in this house though.

Rex realizes there’s no easy way easy way to tell one’s wife that she’s probably in love with their neighbour and too oblivious to recognize it.

_“No one’s ever said life is easy.”_

The words come echoing back to him, his mother voice ringing in his mind. She used to recite the platitude to him and his siblings any time they were bitching and moaning about something insignificant. He thinks she was right, is right, but her ego doesn't need any more inflation.

Gossip spreads like wildfire.

Everyone has heard about Maisy, her little black book, and his standing appointments with her.

It’s hardly the highlight of his week so he’s ready to walk right out of that restaurant when all the patrons gawk at him. Bree tells him to sit, lest she start screaming about his infidelity and her humiliation. He doesn't necessarily think she’ll do it because that would not only involve her having to acknowledge her feelings but having them be subjected to the general public.

He sits anyway because he knows that if he does leave that’s all she’ll do anyway. She’ll stay seated, finish her meal, and tip. In the twenty years he’s known her, Bree has never not tipped. She’s endured enough already.

Once word gets out about his medical problems everyone from colleagues to virtual strangers ask Rex how his heart is feeling.

 _Battered,_ he thinks.

“Better.”

Close enough.

Weeks later he finds himself on the Scavo’s front porch, ringing the doorbell obnoxiously, one ring atop the other so it sounds like it’s going in rounds.

Lynette answers in a bathrobe, surprise obvious on her face.

“Tom’s away on business.”

“Your bedside manner is impeccable.”

Her arms fold over her front defensively.

“I’d ask about your heart but I seriously doubt you have one.”

“Well you’re the expert. I mean my wife stole yours.”

It’s a low blow but they both know how the old saying goes: all’s fair in love and war. She steps forward into his personal space, which would look companionable to any passerby. They’re really good at that.

“What are you doing here?”

“I told Bree I was returning some of your mail that came to our house.”

She looks down at his empty hands.

“How much does it take to become diagnosed as a pathological liar?”

He thinks about glasses houses and throwing stones and he might even be a big enough person not to say it.

Turns out he’s not.

“Get off my property.”

Okay, yeah, he deserved that.

“I can’t. I need to talk to you.”

“So talk.”

Say what one will but Lynette is smart. She knows the most efficient way to get what she wants is to make this concession because otherwise Rex won’t get lost.

“George Williams wants to fuck my wife.”

“As you already less than subtly pointed out, I’m sorta the last person to talk to about that.”

“Honestly, you’re the only person I can talk to about this.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You’re the only one who hates the weasel as much as I do.”

“I don’t actually hate him though so if you’re here for sympathy why don’t you come around when Tom gets back?”

He tries again.

“You’re the only one who knows what it’s like to love her.”

They've never said the word aloud before because they never had to. She looks him right in the eye but he can’t read a damn thing on her face. It’s as though she’s simultaneously blank and overwhelming, like one of those optical illusions that need to be inspected from a step back.

“You know she feels the same.”

He thinks he sees something in her eyes, fleeting as it is.

“Go back there,” she orders with a nod toward his house. “It’s what I’d do.”

It’s a loaded statement that works both ways but as he watches her step inside her own house, shutting the door behind her, he gets his answer.

At Juanita Solis’ funeral, Bree links arms with Lynette. Their husbands and Bree’s children dutifully follow behind, no one batting a lash. It’s a choreography none of them have rehearsed yet they fall into it seamlessly. Bree passes her rose off to Lynette so she can guide everyone like a grade school teacher on a field trip. Once the spectacle has passed she resumes her previous position at Lynette’s side, her arm folded in Lynette’s.

She comes through the door with groceries in hand to see him reclining on her couch. Her husband’s nowhere in sight.

“Tom’s taking a work call.”

Her ice-cream is going to melt if she doesn't start unpacking now so she takes the explanation at face value. Rex makes himself useful by going out to the car to grab more bags then meets her in the kitchen.

Unsure of where anything belongs, he simply passes items off to her to put away. They make small talk and he asks about how the twins are doing at the school his wife got them into. She offers him a drink and something to eat as she tears open a package of cookies, waving it at him. At his house Bree sets out platters and uses a punch bowl. She always has coasters available.

“You’d honestly take living in a Sears catalog over this?”

She swallows her bite of cookie, chugs back half a glass of milk, and wipes her mouth with her sleeve. The action alone should strip her of any seriousness but she somehow manages to appear as fierce as ever.

“I’d take _her._ ”

There was a time when that’s what Rex would have wanted that too. Maybe he still does and that’s why he’s no longer pursuing the divorce. It’s difficult to tell these days. He wants her, of course he does, but Lynette’s conviction was simple, firm, and true. She wants her too and he can’t blame her. In another world if things worked out differently and it was Lynette in his place then maybe she’d change her tune. After all, he had to some extent.

But then the two women have been friends for years, coming up on a decade soon, and she hasn't made a break for it yet. She knows the cool demeanor Bree wears like a second skin, sees her polite society smile that doesn't let anyone in. If she resents it then she doesn't make it well known. He sees them fight though, can’t ignore the toll it takes on Bree. She wanders through life for days on autopilot. The chores are completed and to the outside world nothing has changed but there’s a haunted look whenever she peers across the street. She seems lost.

When she and Lynette make up, Bree is tentative and hopeful. Her smile is bright, sweet, grateful. There’s a physicality to their reconciliations. Bree may never kiss Rex on the mouth in public and reserves hugs for only those she’s close with because PDA makes her uncomfortable but there’s always touching when it comes to Lynette. She’s less stubborn with Bree, more patient, knows when to swallow her pride. In turn, Bree is able to realize when she needs to make a change.

He hates to think that their neighbour knows how to love his wife better than he does.

Tom re-enters the kitchen, kisses her on the mouth, and she kisses back as if she hasn't just confessed to wanting someone else. Rex wonders if she imagines Bree.

She turns up at the hospital in her pajamas and no makeup when Danielle calls her and the girls. They all got into her vehicle to arrive together and they’re rushing through the elevator doors once they’re on the right floor. Gabby and Susan flank Bree’s sides and Lynette seats herself directly in front of her.

They listen to Bree’s update on his condition and offer their condolences, which she defers. One rarely receives unwarranted comforting. If someone is saying everything will be okay it’s usually following an event that proves nothing is okay. Bree’s dislike for consoling makes sense from this frame of mind but it doesn't keep Lynette from stroking her hands and knees, any part of her that she can reach for.

The funeral—while far from an impossibility—is unexpected.

She sits next to Tom in the church pew where she gets an excellent view of Bree’s meltdown. She isn't aware of it now but in retrospect this will look a lot like a tipping point. As Bree comes down the aisle, a death march in reverse, she’s on a mission. She requests Tom’s tie and for a moment he’s taken aback but then so are all the other guests. Lynette urges him to sacrifice the article and everyone stares in stunned silence as Bree removes a garish orange tie from around Rex’s neck to replace it with Tom’s.

Lynette picked it out for him this morning.

She thinks Rex is trying to tell her something.

The second burial is more dramatic in that Bree is rightfully pissed about being accused of murder. She seems to have predicted she’d be in such spirits though because the only people attending this funeral are a few friends from the lane.

Lynette doesn't know if she should tell Bree that there might be more to Rex’s letter than meets the eye. On one hand she actually believes he didn't know Bree well enough to presume her innocent but on the other hand she thinks that his statement remains a bit ambiguous. Although, she muses, he also thinks he’s forgiving her when she’s done nothing that needs apologizing. If anything, it’s Lynette who should say sorry.

She doesn't though because that would require her to talk about things she has spent years actively not talking about.

She thinks he understood that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you have a lovely day <3


End file.
